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Well, it didn’t work out with Prince. Did you foresee that one my lovelies? It ended about a month ago. The red flags were bountiful, but starving hearts eat lies when they are hungry. Such was the case with little piggy Caroline. I won’t go though the litany of details, because quite frankly I’m ashamed of myself for not leaving much earlier like any normal person would have. To summarize, even though it started off beautifully, there ended up being loads of drama and tons of lies. At the end, our relationship really started to feel awful. It was time to walk away. Suffice it to say, I’m back where I started, which I guess wasn’t anywhere that horrible to begin with. It is lonely at times, sure, but I’ve learned how to cope with that.

Shortly following the breakup, I was feeling kinda low. Prince became a big part of my life. We would spend loads of time together, and now there was just empty space. I felt hollow and sad.  It was time to lift my vibration. That’s Law of Attraction speak for “getting my groove back.” So how did I attempt to do that? 

Eating good food. When in a relationship I tend to eat more, and not necessarily healthy stuff. I just don’t feel good about myself when I start putting on weight on. My clothes get tight and uncomfortable, and I don’t feel pretty. It kind of puts a buzz kill on everything for me. For better or for worse, my walks that ended at the Italian bakery for the cheesecake I loved so much are a thing of the past. For the time being, I’m saying no to stuff that isn’t good for me (well, Monday though Friday at least). I’m focusing on eating better quality, natural foods, and I’ve reduced my consumption of Diet Coke. The weight loss is slow going, but then again, it always is. It’s about staying focused and committed and not giving up. I’m going to NYC again in a few days, so that’s not going to help, but whateva. Slim thighs may just have to wait just a bit longer. 

Consuming happy thoughts. What you put in your head is just as important as what you put into your body — if not more. When a relationship ends, it’s not uncommon for your partner to insult you, and unfortunately, sometimes those insults stick and burn ugly holes inside you. Alright, so maybe watching episode after episode of the Marvelous Mrs Maisel and Fleabag (on Amazon Prime) aren’t going to enrich me exactly, but they were welcome distractions when I needed them, funny and entertaining. It doesn’t always have to be educational. Sometimes feeling good is  enough. And if you aren’t at the point where you are ready to feel good, amusingly distracted is okay too. It’s certainly a step in the right direction. Never be annoyed with yourself for not being able to jump from point A to point B on the emotional spectrum at the snap of a finger. It just doesn’t work that way. Baby steps are quite alright. 

Moving: I hate exercise. Abhor it. It’s been months (maybe more like year) since I set foot in the gym, and that wasn’t about to change. I do walk loads though and set myself a lofty Fitbit goal. Things slipped. I’m now back on track and feeling better about myself. Getting outside, fresh air, the sun on my skin, it does wonders. Another active thing I like to do?  I blast some kick ass music on my headphones and dance in my underwear. Don’t ask LOL. All I can tell you is that this ritual of mine feels super uplifting. Instant happiness.

Being social. I’m an introvert so this doesn’t come easy, but I’ve been putting myself out there. When you feel low, the last thing you want to do is be friendly, but it works a certain sort of magic.  I talk about my feelings to whoever will listen. I talk extremely openly, because by being so honest, it opens the door for others to be honest in return.  And I smile. And people smile back, and I can’t tell you why exactly, but there is something very reassuring when someone you don’t really know returns your smile. It’s like a secret code of good will and positive energy.

Looking to the future with happy expectation. I thought after Prince I probably would just give up on the whole dating thing. No. I won’t. I believe that love is out there. Maybe it doesn’t come wrapped in the pretty ribbon I had imagined, but I still believe that the Universe has my back. Sometimes people leave our lives for the simple fact that they aren’t meant to stay. That is okay. What’s mine will find me. But looking to the future isn’t just about romance, it’s also about planning things I can look forward to. For example, I love stand up comedy. I’ve been lucky enough to see Joan Rivers preform (right before she died), and also Chris Rock. Now I’m going to see Jim Gaffigan. It’s not till December, but I’m super excited about it.  As always, I  will continue plan little getaways and restaurant dates (even if those dates are by myself). I love my little adventures.

I recently did hear from Prince. His father passed away from cancer. I was very sad to hear the news, as his dad was a lovely man. This post is not about dragging Prince through the mud. Sometimes two people are just not a match, and trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole is just painful and futile. I feel that such was the case with us.  He may be a prince, but he isn’t MY prince. We shared some very happy times together that I will treasure in my memories. There are no hard feelings, I send him my love and good wishes.

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I have become very cautious of writing about men on this blog. I hate writing about someone and then the following week they are gone, but I have found someone who has become very special to me in a very short time, and I’m dying to spill the beans. Grab your barf bags, because I going to get sappy. I can’t help it. This one does that to me.  In the post before this one, you may noticed that I was getting pretty disgusted by the opposite sex. I always prided myself on keeping an open heart and not allowing myself to become jaded, but I think little icicles were starting to form. Back in the day when a man was acting less than gentlemanly, I’d laugh it off and continue chatting … I stopped doing that shit. I started standing my ground once I concluded that these men weren’t worth my time or the dignity I lost by sharing space with them. Life is too short to breathe the same air as a mysoginist fucktard who thinks a woman’s only purpose is to look hot in a selfie. Besides, who do these guys think they are with their receding hairlines, dad bods, and exorbitant child support payments? Fuck no.

I wanted more. And though I had hoped that I’d find it, I also had to accept that I might not. I’d have to make peace with the loneliness. I’d have to be okay that all the love in my heart might never be shared. It wasn’t okay, but I knew I’d have to put on my big girl panties and deal with it. I wasn’t going to give up, but I wasn’t going to settle.

And when I started to let go of my dream, to love and be loved by someone I respected and admired, it happened. It’s very much in the early stages, but I feel strongly that when you know, you just know. And this time, I know. For the purposes of this blog, I shall refer to this someone as Prince.

I’ll start by saying that I knew I liked him before we met. I can’t remember enjoying talking with someone so much. Our conversation just flowed so effortlessly. God that man can talk for England LOL. My nickname for him is Teddy Ruxpin because he never shuts off. He was fun, engaging, and he told interesting stories in a somewhat swoon worthy South African accent. But after meeting him in person, I knew this man was going to be someone very special in my life. I was definitely attracted to him. He is 6’1, athletic (he played division 1 hockey and polo on a professional level), and he has such a boyish, youthful face. The only give away to his age is the color of his hair. He held my hand and made a lot of physical contact with me in a way that was affectionate but completely undemanding. In fact, we didn’t kiss that night. He was a true gentleman. After that night he asked me if I believed at love at first sight. I never thought I would believe in something so ridiculous… until now.

We are very much alike, despite coming from very different backgrounds. His is one of privilege. He went to the same boarding school as JFK and Ivanka Trump. He was raised by au pairs, not parents, and every activity he was involved in was calculated to make him a success. All he knew was about performing. At ten he already spoke three languages. So what could hippie dippie unicorn riding Caroline possibly have in common with such a man? Well, despite our very different lives, we somehow think the same thoughts, react the same way, and share the same kind of crazy (the batshit variety… let’s call it like it is, shall we?). He has a very soft heart that he only allows only me to see me. He is a well respected equine surgeon and when one of his horses has to be put down, it’s me that he lets wipe his tears.

He is a romantic. He sends me the most beautiful texts. He devotes so much of his time to me— which is absolutely unheard of in my experiences. I’m used to men who avoid communication at all costs. But we spend hours talking and texting throughout the day. Teddy Ruxpin, I tell you, always on… even when I’m ready to close my eyes, especially when I’m ready to close my eyes, and sometimes when my eyes are closed! I love it how he makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger. He has talked about me to his mom, and I have met his dad during a very vulnerable time (Prince’s dad has stage 4 cancer). That he’s incorporated me into his life like this, it makes me feel safe. It makes me feel like I’m not going to be tossed away without a care, as I’ve experienced in the past.

I’d like to think that now will begin the next stages of this blog, in which I no longer write about my shitty encounters with men children. It may have been funny, but it wasn’t fun. It was lonely and disheartening. I hope the next part of my blog is about my adventures with Prince, and relearning what it feels like to love and be loved.

Today is our one month anniversary. Yeah, its not huge, but for me it’s a major milestone. We’ve had a couple hiccups in that time, I won’t lie, but I am unfazed. I don’t want Prince to be perfect. I want him to be human and flawed, just like I am. What matters, when you boil things down to its true essence, despite any roadblocks, Prince is still here. He hasn’t let go of my hand. Consistency. Friendship. Love. It’s everything I wanted. Not perfection, but happiness.

Maybe there is hope for me yet. Watch this space.

 

Despite what everyone says about it (that it’s purely a hookup website), I tried Tinder for a while.  At first I thought it was pretty great. What I loved about the app is that people are only matched with those they are mutually attracted to. I was matched with many successful and attractive men. On paper, these men appear like amazing catches. The downside? For some reason Tinder seems to be a place where men  and women throw respect out the window. It is absolutely bizarre, and quite disturbing. Women are not even treated human beings, they are just sort of like animal flesh. It’s so ugly. I deleted my account today because I could feel myself starting to hate men. I don’t want to be like that. I know good men exist … just maybe not on Tinder.

Offenses range from the mild to the extreme, as I shall demonstrate here. Let’s start with an extreme case, shall we?? Unfortunately I don’t have full screenshots to prove this one, you will have to trust me. I wouldn’t make this stuff up. I present exhibit A(nthony).

Anthony.jpgHe then went on to ask me if I ever had sex with a family member. I shit you not. He revealed what I guess was supposed to be an absolutely scintilating morsel, but I think I vomited in my mouth a bit: apparently when he was younger (I don’t know what age “younger” is), he would sneak into his mom’s room in the dark and have sex with her. This was my first, and hopefully last, encounter with a true “motherfucker.” I replied, “okay, I don’t think we are a match.” I just didn’t know what else to say. I was kind of stunned. At that point HE blocked ME, because you know, I’m a freaking weirdo. And then the text thread disappeared –otherwise you know how I love my screenshots. Tinder ladies. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. 

And speaking of legs, are yours sexy? You better hope so!  So what if you have only two IQ points? According to this guy’s profile, he is a palliative care doctor which makes him really sensitive to humanity and appreciative of life and shit. 

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So according to a guy friend, my response to him was too extreme. When I showed the exchange to Crazy Kay, she was more offended than I was.  What do you think? This is very typical of what you find on Tinder. I felt very much like a cow being inspected at a market for my fat to muscle ratio, not like a human being.  It upset me. 

Here’s another conversation about a guy going off on how women who expect men to pay for a date are like prostitutes…

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Alright Captain Caveman, you become a special little fucktard right here on my blog. How do you like that one? And lucky you, this one is on the house!

The final guy is a very basic schmuck, but my last straw. He is a  civil trial lawyer. First of all, I absolutely can’t stand it when some guy I never met in person starts a conversation with “Hi sexy” …. I quite literally cringe. You don’t fucking know me like that buddy! Is that how you speak to strange women at the grocery store? Because you know me little better. I wondered whether to respond, and decided I would. Maybe I’m just really uptight.  I thought, okay he made a mistake, give the guy a chance.  Here is how that went…

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Again, men always asking me for more pictures … irritating. How about you try to get to know me instead? I mean you can see he isn’t really making much of an effort to understand who I am as a person.IMG_9073.jpg

I tried to be cute, but the truth is I was really pissed off. I left it there. And then I ruminated… and then ruminated some more.  Over an hour had passed, and in that time  I really became angry, furious actually. Why was I doing this? And then came my little rant. So you understand, it isn’t about this one guy in particular, was a culmination of all the dirsrespect (of which this post is only a sampling).

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And with that thoughtfully crafted response, delivered about eight hours later, I felt no regrets whatsoever. Moral of the story: if you want to keep your faith in humanity, do not open the Pandora’s box known as Tinder. Satan will find you there!!!!!

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IMG_8137.jpgI’m often come across talk of “soulmates,” about how there is that one someone special out there for everyone. Every shoe has it’s perfect match, apparently. I could probably just be content with someone whose company I enjoy, though obviously I do wish for more. I want the fairytale, if such things even exist, but I’m not holding my breath. Nothing and no one is perfect, so I’m not holding out for that. I get really disheartened at times when I see what’s out there though. I have dropped my standards when it comes to what I expect out of a man, but I refuse to let go of them completely. I shouldn’t have to. 

About a week ago I was excited when a fairly okay looking doctor (but who I suspect is balding since his pictures seemed somewhat strategically cropped) reached out to me. Let’s start off with a little snippet from his dating profile…

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Sounds good right? Perfect for me.

We exchanged numbers and texted a bit. He didn’t seem anything like the guy in the profile. Actually, the man was pure and unadulterated asshole. Here excerpt from our conversation…

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Well, to make a long story short, we did not meet. I was completely put off.

So, as far as soul mates are concerned,  I accept the responsibility of being my own. The way things are going down, that’s the only choice I really have. And I got to tell ya, I’m getting kind of awesome with the way I treat me. I think I’d make a fab boyfriend! I didn’t want me to feel sad on Valentine’s Day so I did all sorts of lovely things for myself. I am loving myself in the way that I would like someone to love me. I guess that’s the next best thing. Admittedly, it’s a far cry from having a romantic partner, but I’m not going to lower myself to the degree where I’m going to waste my time with a butt wipe, whom I imagine is probably a racist and a Trump supporter (yeah, I totally made that up in my head, but I believe it wholeheartedly). The spirits of my female ancestors did not manifest in my soul so that I could be the foot stool for some fuckwit’s feet. This much I know. Therefore, if I can’t get kindness and respect from a man, I shall give it to myself. In the process, I have decided that I may just ridicule the douche bags that cross my path on my blog  … because, hey, it’s kinda fun. And if I wasn’t able to laugh about it, I’d probably cry. Those of you who know me, know that I do that too. A bit less often these days, but it still happens.

So how did I treat myself on Valentine’s Day? I bought myself a lovely Marc Jacobs tote. It is perfect for work. I plan to use it as my everyday bag. It has this gorgeous bright red interior that makes me feel happy every time I open it. And guess what? I didn’t even buy it on sale. I just treated myself to exactly what I wanted when I wanted it. It was a bit pricey, but whateva. I also ate some delicious buttery shortbread. One by one, I polished off the whole box. For dinner I made myself one of my favorites: wings. I make mine in the oven. It’s an easy recipe: 1 part honey to 1 part harissa (Moroccan spice paste) which I brush on to the chicken once it is cooked and crispy, then back in the oven another five minutes. The trick to getting them crispy is to pat them as dry as possible when raw, salt them, and then cook them on a high temperature on a rack that allows the fat to render. No oil. Nothing is as good as fried, but this is a very satisfying alternative. Try it, tell me what you think.

I do acknowledge that there are good men out there. I have met a few. I know they actually exist, but I haven’t met the one who is right for me. Until then, I am in my own care. I want to do right by me. Partner or not, I hope you will do the same. Nobody will ever know how you need to be teated better than you. Be careful of what you tolerate because you are showing people what you will accept. Show them how it’s done dollies!

Lots of love and kisses to all my readers on Valentine’s Day. I love you. 

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Dating is so crap sometimes. Before it even gets to arranging to meet someone, you have to chat. And I’ve chatted with so many douchebags, that I literally have the urge to sew up my vagina sometimes. My list of deleted numbers resembles something of a telephone directory. So many men give so little and expect so much. Plus they have the attention span of a handful of peanuts. One day they are texting you sweet and silly words, the next day they have forgotten you exist. I KNOW I deserve more than that shit. And there is no fucking way I’m going to accept it. I’d definitely rather be alone … except I don’t reaaaaaly want to be alone. I want to share my life with someone wonderful and worthy. Sometimes I get so disheartened. Is there a guy out there who is right for me? Am I just too strange? I know I’m kind of niche— I’m not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. I figure I’m more of a matcha latte. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love who I am and who I’m becoming. I’d just really like to “become” with an amazing man by my side.

There was this lawyer I went on a date with. He made a big freaking deal about me not being able to use chopsticks. A huge deal. I have only had sushi a few times in my life, so perhaps I do look kinda silly trying to utilize them, but why did he have such a strong desire to try to embarrass me? What ever happened to being a gentleman? Do you know why I don’t eat sushi much? I DONT LIKE IT. I put my likes aside to spend time with someone, and enjoy something THEY like, and I am rewarded with ridicule. Not friendly ridicule, but a purposely nasty kind of disdain. Nice, huh? Total troglodyte!

Here is a snippet of conversation I had with with another fucktard. Clearly he had only one intention in mind in trying to meet me:

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These are not uneducated men: a doctor and a lawyer. What they have in common is a lack of empathy, and an extreme sense of entitlement. Chivalry isn’t dead, it’s more likely to have been murdered and then drowned in its own tears. Common decency and respect is just sooooo over and outdated.

Tonight I’m having my second date with a man I shall call Derwood. Derwood is hot! He has the sexiest arms ever. Ever. He is quite charming in a strange sort of way, and I am wickedly attracted to him … but … well, he seems a tad dumb, if I’m honest, juvenile. Plus, like most men, his interest in me seems mostly sexual. I want to be with a man who seems to really want to get to know me, a man I can respect and look up to. I had so much fun making out with Derwood in his car at the end of date number one, that I made an exception, however. I ended up breaking my no kissing on a first date rule for him. So despite acknowledging that this probably has no potential, I am really looking  forward to seeing him tonight … but then I found out the movie he chose for us to watch is practically a kids movie *sigh.* No, I’m pretty sure Derwood is not “the one.”

And this is the general trend in my love life, my dear readers. I do believe the man I’m looking for is out there somewhere. I wish he would stop hiding. I’ve kissed enough frogs. I want something good and real… and soon!

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